Getting to know Mama Bear

27Jul08

I met my wife over ten years ago. We were both 22. It seems either a lifetime has passed since then, or about fifteen minutes. I knew the moment I met her that we’d always be together. She took a bit more convincing. She is the smart one.

But being with her has always been easy. It was easy from the first conversation, and not just because she’s gorgeous and quick-witted. She’s laid back about most things and lets me have my way unless I’m being an idiot, which is usually only four to five times a day. And if there’s an argument at my house, it’s usually because I made a big deal about something small, not because she’s got a bone to pick.

You probably are picking up on the especially complimentary nature of my description of my wife. This is because I am now horribly afraid of her. I may be mauled and dead by the time you read this post.

Your version of your wife as Mama Bear.

Aw, isn't Mama Bear nice?

This is what she feels like inside sometimes.

Holy f*%ing s@&* no, she's not.

At left, is a photo of what you pictured Mama Bear looking like when you and your wife sat down and made the decision to have children.

At right, is an accurate depiction of the incredible potential force that motherhood unleashes on a woman’s personality.

Lucky for me, thus far, I’ve only seen short glimpses of these fangs and claws. But this weekend, as we finished off the creation of our nursery, I wrestled with the beast and barely got away with my life.

I won’t get into the reasons I was mauled repeatedly. It really was my fault. I ignored the obvious. The nursery is essentially the Mama Bear’s cave.

Perhaps it’s some vestigial protection against infanticidal ancestors. Maybe it’s related to an innate sense of vulnerability near the end of pregnancy. But no doubt about it, you are not especially welcome in the cave.

And you certainly aren’t in charge of drawing on the cave’s walls. This includes all forms of decoration and pretty much anything intended to adorn the baby.

First, to recap an earlier theme, no one cares about you and your preferences. Did you picture a sports-themed nursery? Foolish man. You will be lucky to get a sports-themed outfit. Did you envision your favorite children’s characters from your own youth taking their places in your child’s life? Wrong again, bucko. Did you even think you were going to sit on that glider you proudly built? No. Build it and get the hell out.

Your job is limited to constructing things for her cave and moving them around her cave. Several times. Perhaps adjusting the arrangement several times to demonstrate configuration options. At will. At all hours. While smiling.

You are not an expert at anything when you are inside Mama Bear’s cave. You are a eunich who happens to be capable of lifting large things.

You put these large things wherever she tells you to put them. You paint what she tells you to paint. You redo things as often as she wants you to. Pretend you are building character.

And do NOT be fooled by the following question – “What do you think we should do?”

This question does not mean you are supposed to give your opinion. It means that you are supposed to give the last opinion she gave aloud, preceded by the words, “I thought you had it right when you said…” Even if her last opinion uttered was that you are a moron, the technique is still 100% effective.

It shouldn’t be too hard on your ego because you really don’t know the answer to any of the questions she has for you.

You don’t know which drawer in the changing table should contain the diapers. If you’re like me, you do think the bottle opener and the pizza cutter should be in the top one.

You don’t know whether there should be a space between the crib and the wall. You do think that you could probably hide in the space.

When it comes to wall art, you don’t know whether the pretty flower should be placed next to the cute monkey, or whether the adorable lion should be facing the shrub. You do think that it hurts to hold your body in the position that is required for her to come closer to knowing. You also think that it hurts more when you get jacked in the mouth for complaining about this.

If you find yourself atop a step stool trying to know any of these things, aim your forehead at the crown molding and tap repeatedly, with increasing intensity until that feeling subsides.

In all, it’s clear this is just the beginning. Once she’s breastfeeding and the hormones are really flying around, it could get physically dangerous. I’m planning to take advantage of my wife’s immobility during the epidural in order to have her claws trimmed. And I’m going to hope she doesn’t see this post until after we’ve left for work in the morning.

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4 Responses to “Getting to know Mama Bear”

  1. 1 mtaterskt738

    Your witty and factual descriptions of pregnancy not only make my day but make me laugh every post. keep up the good work.

    DaddyKV
    JustDaddys.Net

  2. 2 copywritermom

    Ah yes, I’m pretty sure my husband would agree with you… great post!

  3. Hello! Quick question that’s completely off topic. Do you know how to make your site mobile friendly? My site looks weird when browsing from my iphone 4. I’m trying to find a theme or plugin that might be able to
    resolve this issue. If you have any recommendations, please share.

    Cheers!


  1. 1 Another shout out to BuyBuyBaby « dad or bust

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